


Selective Memory

by Lilbug121



Category: Gorillaz
Genre: Angst, F/M, Gen, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-19
Updated: 2014-01-19
Packaged: 2018-01-09 06:23:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1142554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilbug121/pseuds/Lilbug121
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Still recovering from his head injury, 2D's short term memory is extremely bad. So bad, in fact, that some days he forgets that he and Paula broke up; and the reminders hit him hard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Selective Memory

**Author's Note:**

> I cried while writing this, fyi.

Paula is not in your shared room.

Paula is not in the kitchen.

Paula is not in the living room.

Paula is not in Noodle's room (and it takes you a few minutes to remember who Noodle is-the fact she is here feels like it has something to do with the fact that Paula isn't, but you have no idea why).

Paula is, in fact, not anywhere in the studio. You frown to yourself about this, because you miss her a lot-you aren't sure why, though. Maybe she went out with friends and forgot to tell you; or maybe she told you and you forgot to remember. You've been having issues with the whole memory thing for the past couple of months.

You decide to call her, and sit cross-legged on the couch and before pulling out your cell phone. However, as you scroll through your contacts you can't seem to find her number. All the other numbers are there, your parents and your small handful of friends and the contact you made of your own number so you wouldn't forget it, but hers is not. You scroll through a couple more times, and wrack your brain to see if you can remember her number anyways. But you can't even recall the area code with certainty.

You ask Russell, who was playing a board game with Noodle a few feet away, why you can't find Paula's number in your phone. Maybe you were just not seeing it, or perhaps she got a new phone with a new number and you haven't put that in yet, or-

He looks at you like he's very confused, and says that you two...

What? This has to be some kind of joke, or maybe you're getting words and meanings mixed up again like you did the first few weeks after waking up. Why would you ever break up? You've been dating since you were 16! She had called to ask you on another date the day after you saw a 3D movie together and it gave you a migraine and you vomited on her! She had waited a long uncertain year for one accident to undo another and picked your relationship up right where it left off, she tells you nice things when people make fun of you and reminds you what time you have doctors appointments and shifts at work, and when you think about all of this you begin to wonder, was that why? Because you were too much of a responsibility? But you had asked her that before, and she said she liked having someone to take care of.

You were looking at Russell (who had gone from confused to worried to a sort of sympathetic understanding), but now your gaze drifts to your and Paula's bedroom door. You had written your name and she her's on a piece of paper and taped it to your door, because you got mixed up a bit in the new building. When you look, you see "Stuart" in your own messy scrawl, but where "and Paula" should be written in her own neat round lettering there is instead the jagged edge of a ripped sheet of paper.

There are tears in your eyes as you look back and forth between your Paula-less contact list and Paula-less bedroom door in a decidedly Paula-less building living what you are slowly coming to understand to be your now Paula-less life.

"I don't-I can't-what did I _do_?" you ask incredulously, desperately hoping you can salvage whatever mistake you made.

But...he says _you_ broke up with _her_? For _cheating?_ You feel dazed, more dazed than you've felt in your life (and you feel as though you could be some sort of authority on dazed feelings by now). Maybe you're dreaming. Maybe you're still in a coma right now. Maybe none of this ever happened and in a few minutes your alarm clock will go off and you'll be 19 again, and you'll kiss your mom goodbye and meet Paula after work and get high in her basement. Maybe...

Maybe this is your life now, and you aren't dreaming no matter how badly you wish you were, because you start to remember in bits and pieces. You remember ripping off her name as carefully as you could and putting it...somewhere, somewhere so you wouldn't forget but you forgot anyways. You remember hesitating over your phone's enter key, "delete contact" selected, staring at the contact photo and feeling lost, like maybe you made a mistake and should call her, but maybe calling her would be the bigger mistake. You remember deliberating for days over if you should even tell her you know she cheated or just let it go because she has done so much for you, until one day she asks why you've been antsy around her and avoiding her and all but accuses _you_ of cheating, and you just acted without thinking and there was yelling and crying and you said you were through and she said that was fine by her, but it wasn't fine by either of you, not really.

Your head hurts, but you can't tell if your getting a migraine or if you're just upset, or if you got too worked up from being upset that it triggered one, but you go to your (and that your is singular now, and it feels so _wrong_ ) room to sit in the dark regardless.

Her pillow still smells like her hair, and the sour-apple smell is a bittersweet comfort as tears streak your face, and eventually you fall into a deep dreamless sleep.

When you wake up it's 2AM, your mind is fuzzy with sleep, and you're in your and Paula's bed all alone.

Maybe, you think, she's in the kitchen.


End file.
